


In the Neighborhood

by FemslashUniverse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, An X-File Case, Community - Freeform, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Investigation, Love, Muggles, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Pretending To Be Married, Rating May Change, Rating will probably change, Romance, Slow Burn, Suburbs, Undercover, forced house share, neighborhood life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemslashUniverse/pseuds/FemslashUniverse
Summary: Hermione has her first case with the magical law enforcement division. There's one catch. She has to take the world renown potions master, Narcissa Black, with her.A muggle town has been experiencing a number of strange incidents that are causing issues for the ministry. Shouldn't be a big deal for the golden girl, but once she and her new partner make it to town, a forcefield surrounds them. No one can enter. No one can leave. Worst yet, all their magic is drained.Or: Hermione and Narcissa fall in love, and solve what is basically an X-Files case. \o/
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta who not only fixes my mistakes, but encourages me to keep writing. <3
> 
> Also, if you feel like reading more Harry Potter fic with lesbians in a slow burn, and you also like Star Trek Voyager, maybe check out my other story, The Dark Lord's Drone? :D

“Miss Granger! Please, come in, come in.” 

“Minister,” I said and nodded as I entered his office. It seems the minister has been busier than usual. His office is as tidy as Ron’s entire life, which is not saying much. 

“Please, sit, sit.” 

Why is he saying everything twice? Why am I so annoyed? I push these thoughts away as he gestures to one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk. 

“How are you, Miss Granger?” 

“Doing well, thank you. How can I help you, Minister?” 

He smiles at me and shakes his head slightly. I’m sure if I could hear his thoughts he’d be saying something like, ‘always that golden girl.’ I barely hold back rolling my eyes. 

“I have a case for you.” 

My attention snaps to him instantly. A real assignment? Curb your excitement, Hermione. 

“I want you to run point on it.” 

“You do?” Don’t sound so surprised, idiot. I clear my throat as I take the folder he hands me. I barely make sense of the random photographs and pages of text. My own case? Running point? 

“You can read that later.” 

I set it in my lap gripping it with white knuckles. My own case! 

“You’ve been doing well here, though I’m not surprised.” His smile makes it seem like he has some part in it. I’ll give it to him since he’s giving me my own case! 

Three knocks on his door has him rising quickly and knocking a little stack of books on the floor as he hurries to open it. The books hitting the floor hurt my soul, but I simply grip the folder harder. 

“Please, please, come in!” 

Here we go with the double-words again. 

I am too excited about the case to even be curious enough to look at who has moved beside me and taken the other seat. Kingsley has taken up his own seat again. 

“I’m not sure if you’ve met, in an official capacity,” he adds quietly. “Miss Black, Miss Granger.” 

For a moment my heart stops. Miss Black? Not Andi. It’d make no sense for Andi to be here. And Bellatrix. She’s dead. Right? She’s dead. That leaves only one other. I turn my head slowly toward my side. I don’t mean to drag my eyes up along her black heels, stocking legs and black skirt. Nor do I mean to slide along her silk white blouse up to her red painted lips. I skip over her eyes, instead finding my attention at her platinum blond hair with the defining black streak in a regal bun. Have minutes gone by? Or has it really just been seconds? 

“Miss Granger,” the red lips say. 

I frown slightly as I look up a bit higher and into two shockingly crystal blue eyes. Oh. Yes. Those eyes. Even if I wanted to forget them, I couldn’t. The worst night of my entire life had me desperately gripped to those eyes. 

I notice her swallow, and I finally snap out of it. Turning to Kingsley, I know the venom in my veins isn’t really directed toward her, but I am helpless to stop it. “What is she doing here?” 

A chiding look from Kingsley is reeled back. He knows why I detest the Malfoys, and the Blacks, and the LeStranges. The whole lot. He gives me a sympathetic, half smile as he continues. 

“As I was telling Agent Granger, she will be taking point on this case.” He turned to me to continue. “You will have available to you what you need to investigate this matter. While I have every faith in you, of course, Hermione, I’ve brought Narcissa onto this case for a reason.” 

“To torture me?” I say under my breath. The blonde turns to me with surprise but I ignore it. Poor choice of words, I suppose. 

“Narcissa is one of the wizarding worlds’ leading potions masters.” 

“I know,” I bite back. “‘Unrivaled by even the late, great Severus Snape.’” I quote from the rag of a newspaper, from almost three months ago. The anger I felt at seeing it was unmistakable to my friends. 

“Those were not my words,” the blonde says, as if I didn’t know that. 

I can’t help it, I turn to her with a sneer. “Sure.” 

“I wouldn’t touch anything Rita Skeeter put her hands on. I’m surprised you would, Miss Granger.” 

“Ladies,” Kingsley interferes before I can snap back. “Please. This is important, and honestly, if you can’t resolve these issues Hermione, then maybe it’d be better if I get someone else to take this case.” 

“No.” My answer gives away my desperation to have my own case. I don’t care at the moment. I swallow down my antagonism toward the blonde. “You will not be disappointed, Minister.” 

“Good.” 

That evening, I get home more tired than I realize. When did I last eat? Must have skipped lunch again. That’s becoming a habit. 

“Ron?” 

There’s no sound other than the soft paws of Crookshanks as he makes his way over to me. He hops up on the counter and I give him a few face scratches until he purrs. 

“Always hungry, you are.” I smile as I open up a can of cat food, toss the contents into a small plastic bowl and place it on the floor beside his water. All I want is a gallon of wine and a long shower. But that won’t be on the agenda this evening. Too many things I need to read, plan for, and begin strategizing. I’ve read the case files twice now, but it’ll require a few more times for the information to really stick. I will know the facts back and forth before we even set foot on U.S. soil. We. Ugh. 

I’m not sure what’s worse, looking forward to being away from Ron or being in the same vicinity as Narcissa Black. Neither situation feels particularly good. I deserve a glass of wine, and I take it with me to my office. 

‘Office’ is really sort of misleading. Ever since I conjured a fold out couch, I’ve spent more time sleeping here than in the bedroom. Does it really matter at this point? Ron doesn’t seem to mind. Hell, some nights he doesn’t even come home. Or maybe he does and ‘home’ for him isn’t here.

Ugh. What happened to that brave golden girl? 

On my desk, the framed photo of me, Harry, and Ron tugs at my heart. Hogwarts stands tall and proud behind us and we’re all smiling so wide. The three of us, so happy to be back for our second year at school. In so few years we’d all be tested, gain and lose family, commit and have violence committed to us, loss, and then, victory. Why did that last part always seem so far away while the others seemed to have happened yesterday? 

We had all been tenacious, courageous beyond our years. So, what happened? How did I go from a stubborn know-it-all, brightest witch of her age, golden girl to… this. 

A couple gulps of wine down my throat helps, and I turn the frame face down so I don’t have to look into the past any more. I’m tired of it. I have other things to focus on now. My own case!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am taking liberties with the source material. Some things will not be accurate to the original text, but I hope you will forgive me if I give ya a good story? 😬😊
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta! 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3

Narcissa and I stand beside each other, and I make sure to take a small step further away, but there’s only so much room in the floo. With a quick word we’re transported from the ministry to our place of interest: California. 

When we arrive in the U.S. embassy, we are greeted by a nerd with thick glasses, a sweater vest and all, who talks as eloquently as Madeye. While he goes on about something unimportant, I look beside me at the blonde and realize she’s only carrying a somewhat flat, black and silver briefcase. 

“Is that all you’ve brought?” I ask quietly as the nerd has his attention elsewhere. 

She quirks her eyebrow and looks down at me like I’m a peasant in her kingdom. This is  _ my _ damn case. I glare at her until she turns away as if she’s bored. What am I, 12? 

I’ve worked damn hard to be here. Surprisingly, still alive. I don’t need her piss poor attitude. 

Without gracing me with her attention, she responds, “you are not the only one who knows how to pack a proper bag.” 

Ugh. I roll my eyes at myself. Obviously. 

“It would behoove you to better hide your thoughts, Miss Granger. Anyone could be listening.” She follows the nerd as he continues the tour of the embassy, which I never asked for. 

Behooves? Really? Miss Granger? 

Taking a breath, I follow behind the taller woman. Despite her arrogant, icy demeanor, I can’t help but admire her muggle clothing. On second look, everyone in the embassy is dressed as a muggle. In fact, I’m the only one who’s in robes. Did I miss a memo? 

As soon as the question floats in my head, she turns back to glance at me before continuing on. I glare at the back of her head. Running my eyes down her black blazer, I can’t help but notice the way she moves in her form-fitting black skirt and far too high heeled pumps. I feel like a first-year trying to catch up, in my old robes with dusty combat boots. 

Glancing at myself in one of the large mirrors adorning the lobby of the embassy, I realize that not only am I in the wrong clothing, but that my robes are crooked. Oh, Hermione. Where did that put-together witch go? 

“Miss Granger?” Narcissa calls from beside a glass door that leads outside. Before I can put a thought together, she continues. “Do change before you join us outside. We wouldn’t want the American’s to stare.” 

She slips outside like some ethereal spirit with smooth, weightless movements. Not a hair out of place. I glance in the mirror at myself again and notice that I’ve also forgotten to brush my hair. UGH. Great first day. 

*****

The nerd, whose name I haven’t cared enough to catch, is nodding to Narcissa before making a hasty exit. She closes the door of the house we’re in. Who would have thought? Me and Narcissa, mother of Draco, Black, sharing a muggle house in the suburbs of California? I would’ve bet the house on it. Heh. 

“Something funny?” Narcissa asks as she looks over the living room and dining room around us. 

“What? This house isn’t nice enough for you, your majesty?” 

That earns me another eyebrow raise before I feel her eyes roaming up and down my body. She’s sizing me up! She’s no Queen. She’s a demented—panther! 

“Slytherin’s are snakes. Surely you know that, Miss Granger. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to set up my lab.”

She takes her briefcase and begins walking up the stairs to the second level. “Wait,” I order and she stops on the fourth step. 

“There’s only three rooms upstairs. Use the basement for your lab.” 

She visibly swallows down whatever she was going to say and instead comments through her teeth, “very well. Will I be forced to sleep down there as well? Perhaps you’d like to chain the door.” 

She steps right in front of me, daring me to speak. I have nothing until she strides over to the basement door. 

“No. There are two bedrooms and a study. You can have the master room.” 

“How big of you,” she sneers. “I only require a small room. I’ll take the guest quarters, Miss Granger.” 

With that, the basement door shuts with a sharp click and I roll my eyes so hard I see stars. Oh, how wonderful this will be. Working with the woman from the wrong side of the war. I don’t care if she helped Harry or not. She didn’t help me. All she did was watch as her sister carved into my skin. 

I’d make her sleep under the stairs if I could. 

*****

I don’t unpack my bag. I’m ready to go. I move down the stairs of the house quietly, listening for the blonde. She’s probably still in the basement with her little potions. I’m not sure why I’m so angry with her. I don’t  _ really  _ blame her for what Bellatrix did to me. I know there’s a big chance we would’ve lost the war if it weren’t for Narcissa’s lie to Voldemort. I’m putting things onto her that she had no control over.

But, she reminds me of all the people we lost, and all the things that have happened since the end of the war. 

I’ve got the front door half open when her voice brings me to a halt. 

“Running off, Miss Granger?” 

I can hear her eyebrow arching. I can feel her scornful glare. 

“To do my job,” I bite back, looking over my shoulder at her. I’ve already forgotten how blue her eyes are, and how platinum her hair is with the jet black streak. 

“You’re staring, Miss Granger.” 

Am I? I cough and wrench my eyes from her as a bead of sweat crawls down my neck. 

“Shouldn’t I come with you?” 

Her voice is almost gravelly, deep, and precise. The goosebumps that scatter along my arms are from the crisp wind outside, not the woman brushing past me. 

“Are you coming, then?” 

She doesn’t wait for me as she makes her way down the walkway toward the sidewalk. I purposefully close the door with extra force. If she notices, she doesn’t show it. Maybe if she wasn’t so bitchy—

“Hiya!” 

My heart bounces to my throat at the gleeful white man who approached me. He can’t be more than 35, but he has the energy of a 12 year old from 1950. And why does he speak so loudly but move so quietly?

“Hello,” I answer shakily, my heart trying to find it’s normal pace. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m Dave. Most everyone calls me Davey.” He holds out his hand joyfully, like I’ll make his entire year if I award him with my handshake. I do finally, remembering myself. “Hermione.” 

“You’re British!” 

I nod. What’s with the American anglophiles? Eh, could be worse, I suppose. It’s better to be underestimated. 

“Narcissa,” the blonde says as she stands beside me. I start again. Damn. Why am I so jumpy? 

“Welcome to the neighborhood! Guess they’ll need to take the sign down. I’m glad someone’s finally purchased this place. It’s been on the market for almost two months now. Is it just the two of you here? Me and my wife and our two kids live next door. Davey,” he put his hands on his chest, “Marina, my wife, Davey Jr., and Cece. And Sprinkles!” 

I’m pretty sure he’ll pass out if he doesn’t take a breath. When he does stop speaking, I don’t know what to say and stand there with my mouth gaping open and close like a fish. 

“Sprinkles?” Narcissa questions seriously. 

His guffaws are a bit over the top, but I’m glad he’s introduced himself. 

“That’s our dog,” he winked. “Is it just you two?” 

_ Oh crap.  _ How did I forget to come up with a cover story? I suppose I could just obliviate the poor bloke, though. Why can’t I think of a single thing to tell him?  _ You fought the Dark Lord! Think, Hermione!  _

“Yes,” Narcissa smiles almost sinisterly. “Newlyweds.” 

My jaw hits the floor as she snakes her arm around my waist and pulls me snug against her frame. Her scent assaults me, as does the warmth coming from her body. She really presses me against her as her fingers burrow against my flesh. 

I’m fairly certain Davey is just as stunned as I am. 

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart,” Narcissa continues in her deeper voice. 

Whether or not she can feel my shudder, I don’t know. All I do know is that I am feeling out of breath, confused, disoriented, excited, nervous, comfortable, and a whole lot of other things all at the same time. 

Has she put a spell or a hex on me? Maybe a potion in my coffee thermos? 

Just as quickly as she’s engulfed me, she removes herself, but stays beside me. 

“Is that a problem?” She asks Davey. 

“What? No! No, no, no. Forgive me, please. We’re a very open neighborhood here. In fact there’s a couple down the str—no, that’s what people say when they’re trying to prove they aren’t whatever it is they actually are. Please, we would love to have you over for dinner! Get to know you both and help you settle in the neighborhood. I’m sure you have to unpack, so how about Saturday evening? Say 6:30?” 

My god, he really doesn’t need to breathe to speak. 

“That would be great,” I respond with a smile. “Me and my wife would be delighted.” 

“Great! I’ll see you around, new neighbors!” 

Just as quickly, and quietly, as he showed up, he made his way back to his house. 

“Care to explain yourself?” Narcissa demands after a few quiet moments alone. 

“Pardon?” I turn with what I know is the most incredulous face I’ve ever made.

“We’re on a case, Miss Granger. Have you already forgotten we don’t live here? We will  _ not  _ have dinner with them.” 

I smirk. She’s nervous! I can tell by the flicker of unease in her eyes that she tries to hide. She’s fussing with the sleeve of her jacket! 

“Don’t worry so much,  _ Miss Black _ , I’ve been authorized to obliviate anyone after we’ve questioned them.” 

“I believe the minister meant at the  _ end _ of the investigation.” 

I shrug. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Are you coming or what?” I don’t wait and begin striding purposefully toward nowhere in particular. I’ve completely forgotten everything I read for a long moment. Five steps later, I realize I’m going the wrong way. I turn around and march the other direction down the sidewalk. Her clicking heels let me know she’s following me. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear what you think of the story so far... ❤️

“What exactly happened?” 

“It was the damndest thing.” Mr. Henderson wipes the back of his neck with an oil-stained rag. 

“Please try to elaborate,” I request. He props himself up with one hand on either side of the exposed engine. He seems to be drawn to the mechanism that I don’t understand, but that’s fine with me, as long as he can tell me what he’s talking about. 

I glance toward Narcissa while he tries to find his words. She looks like she’s about two seconds away from bolting. She stands as far away from every dirty tool and grease stain that she can. If she looks down her nose any harder I’m afraid she may strain something. It’s a mechanics’ garage, what does she expect? Roses and champagne? 

“We use the hydra lift for the cars.” Mr. Henderson comes around the old, beat up Ford, and points at the two posts on the stained, concrete floor. Narcissa visibly leans away as he stands beside her. There are two rags in his pocket, one stuffed in the back and one on his left. I think that’s what she’s leaning away from, but it doesn’t look very polite, considering Miss Pureblood and all of her fancy, refined etiquette.

I send her an admonishing glare and she seems to take the hit, grimacing as she straightens once more, coming awfully close to  _ barely  _ brushing the rag. If I didn’t dislike her, I’d find it cute. But, she’s not. I mean, it’s not.  _ It’s  _ not cute, and she’s not–

“It was here.” 

I start at Mr. Henderson, who doesn’t notice, trying to focus. “And when this car was acting strange, it was here on the ground, or already up?” 

“It was on the floor,” he responds stringently. “But…” A shake of disbelief follows. “It’s going to sound crazy, but I swear to you, the car lifted up on its own.” 

That draws Narcissa and I to look at each other immediately. 

“What happened after that?” 

“Not much. It stayed up in the air for a few minutes before it lowered itself back down. I thought I’d had a stroke!” He barked a laugh and his large greasy hand slapped Narcissa on the shoulder playfully. I’m pretty sure I’ve  _ never  _ seen such a flash of rage over something so ridiculous. The large oil and dirt stain on her shoulder is prominent, and I bite my lip to avoid laughing. She squeezes her eyes closed, probably counting to ten.

I follow Mr. Henderson back toward the engine. “Has anything else strange happened? Anything out of the ordinary at all?” I’ll admit a small, tiny part of me is trying to give Narcissa another moment to collect herself so she doesn’t turn him into a toad, or a slug. Though, I’m not sure why I’d care that she needs a moment, other than of course, for the ongoing investigation of _ my  _ case. She’s being, unsurprisingly, exactly how I figured she’d be since we met in Kingsley’s office a week ago. Ugh. She really annoys me. 

“I don’t think so,” Mr. Henderson shrugs as he goes back around to the engine. I don’t remember what I’d asked him. 

“Was it this auto-mobile specifically?” Narcissa asks, standing tall with a grimace.

Who calls them ‘automobiles’? Ah, right, purebloods, who’d rather take a long walk off a short pier than mingle with some muggles or mudbloods like me.

“No,” he places his hands on his waist. 

“Whose was it then?” She snaps a little forcefully. He doesn’t seem to notice, or care. Her composure is definitely beginning to fail. She lasted, what, all of twenty five minutes? Must be a personal record. 

“Mrs. Takaga. She lives off Wilshire. Green four-door.”

I quickly thank Mr. Henderson and give him one of the business cards I had made beforehand. 

As soon as we’re outside again, she’s quick to demand we stop back at the house so she can change. She seems to be leaning away from her own shoulder like the stain will infect her with some muggle disease. I roll my eyes, but agree. I could use another cup of coffee. 

The short walk back to the house is silent, and it seems like her heels are clicking harder on the pavement than before. 

Replaying her expression at that moment Mr. Henderson’s hand slid down, dragging a line of grime on her makes me chuckle, and she turns with narrowed eyes. 

“Do you find something funny,  _ Miss Granger _ ?” 

“Nope.” I keep a serious face until she turns. I look down at the sidewalk as a silent laugh bubbles up. 

She makes a rather undignified huff before striding ahead of me. Still, she doesn’t seem to go too far ahead. I suppose she wants to make sure I wait for her before going to interview our next witness. 

*****

“Hello,” a sweet older woman greets us. 

I put on my little girl smile and she invites us inside her quaint home. It’s one of the older homes, two streets over from our base camp. (I refused to call it our ‘home.’) 

She sits us in the living room on a god awful peach colored couch from even before Narcissa was born. So, old, ancient. 

“Ow! What the hell?” I can’t be sure, but I’m fairly certain Narcissa purposefully spills a bit of her tea on my arm. 

“Sorry, dear,” she lies. 

I don’t have a chance to roll my eyes or snap back at her before Mrs. Takada returns from the kitchen. I’ve never been one for green tea, but luckily Narcissa seems to like it, even complementing her a few times on the flavor.

“You are new, yes?” The gentle older woman asks as she sits across from us. 

“Yes, Mrs. Takada,” Narcissa bows her head slightly. I try not to frown at the blonde, but despite how I feel, Mrs. Takada does seem to respond better to her than she does to me.  _ Maybe because they’re the same age. _

“We’re married,” Narcissa says out of the blue. Her hand is slipping onto my leg as she scoots closer to me on the sofa. I know I’m wide eyed, and perhaps I’ve also gasped, but what does she think she’s doing?!

Her fingers gently begin grazing my lower thigh in little circles. “Newlyweds,” she adds, giving me another one of those troubling smiles. Demented. Panther.

“Kekkon omedetōgozaimasu!” The older woman smiles widely. 

“Domo arigato gozaimasu,” Narcissa turns to her and smiles genuinely. 

“You know Japanese!” I can understand Mrs. Takada’s surprise.

“A little.” Is Narcissa blushing? What is happening?

“Ah, you are lucky, otome,” she says to me. 

“Thank… you.” I am not enjoying this. 

Narcissa’s hand gently squeezes my thigh before she finally removes it from me, picking up her tea again. That helps sort my head a little.

I clear my throat and try to take back control over our interview once more. “Mrs. Takada, we were talking to Mr. Henderson earlier today. He mentioned that you had something strange happen to you. My–” I have to swallow whatever is coming back up my throat before I continue, “my wife is a scientist. We thought it sounded very interesting. Can you tell us about it?” 

The older woman visibly trembles as she sets her cup down. I turn to Narcissa and she nods, seemingly thinking the same thing that I am. I haven’t had much luck with Mrs. Tagada, but Narcissa has. I let her take care of this one. 

“Mrs. Takada,” she says softly, far more softly than I’d ever heard her, “we believe we can help. No matter what happened, we will not think of you any differently. In fact, if you’re so inclined, I would like to return some time for another cup of your delicious tea, and wonderful company.”

The older woman meets her gaze and smiles. With a slight nod, she takes a deep breath and recounts the incident in her home. Our discussion takes more than an hour, including Narcissa’s questions, all of which are the ones I would’ve asked if she hadn’t beaten me to it. I’ll have to jot down some notes about this incident. 

While I appreciate, and find it amusing that a few of her neighbors had thought it to be a poltergeist, I’m fairly certain that was not the case here. There are a number of spells I can think of that would have everything in the room rising and moving like a vortex. This is the second incident that involves levitation. First the car, now all the items in Mrs. Tagada’s room. There’s something there. 

Once I have what I need, I decide to let Miss Black choose how we’ll excuse ourselves. I nod to her with the understanding that she will give us an out. Instead, she and Mrs. Takada discuss various cities in Japan, and some of the country’s current events. I let my mind wander while they speak in both Japanese and English; no use in burning a bridge by impolitely excusing us.

We’ve done two incident interviews today, starting from the first reported incident by the Ministry. If Mr. Henderson really is the first one to experience magic here, and Mrs. Takada is really the second, then the escalation between the two events is significant. There are only three other incidents to investigate, and based on the Auror’s reports, they will probably be escalations. I’m eager to get the other interviews done as soon as possible, but at this rate, I’m certain we won’t get much further today. (Does Miss Black recall that we are, as she herself said, not here to stay? This isn’t a social call.)

I would really appreciate it if she expedited things already! I want to at least investigate the incident at the bakery, and also get some fresh pastries, or maybe an apple tart. A cinnamon bun sounds good, too. I’ll take any kind of sweet pastry at this point.

  
  


*****

Miss Black’s gentle voice stirs my mind from the darkness. 

“Darling?” 

Her voice becomes clearer. 

“Sweetheart, it’s time to go.” 

I open my eyes and realize I am slumped against her, my head resting on her shoulder. I pull away quickly, too quickly, and she grabs my arm to stabilize me. I hear a little giggle and look over to find Miss Takada enjoying herself at my expense. 

“Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?” Narcissa purrs. 

What the hell? Her raised eyebrows arch. It takes me an extra moment to get my bearings. 

“Yeah, babe,” I respond with a smirk. I know instantly she  _ hates  _ this fake endearment. So, you know, it’ll be the only one I use from now on. “I must’ve knocked off for a few minutes there.” 

Getting up from the surprisingly comfortable sofa, I stretch my neck a little. “I’m sure Mrs. Takada has more interesting things to do than wait on us.” 

Narcissa rises after Mrs. Takada, and she walks us to the front door. 

“You are welcome any time, Cissa,” she pulls the blonde into a fond hug. ‘Cissa’ and I make eye contact as she’s embraced. I think she’s even more shocked than I am. If anyone  _ dared  _ hug her in our world… Blimey. I think she’d Hulk out and destroy... everything. 

“And you, otome, you are welcome to nap on my sofa any time.” 

I can feel my cheeks redden but she only lightly cups my cheek and smiles. 

Outside, I take a few deep breaths in the cool air. It’s only five, but the sky is already beginning to darken. 

Earlier today, I stomped around sidewalks in my boots, followed by Miss Black clicking loudly around me. Now, we are almost ambling along. 

The air outside is warm, but the cool breeze from the ocean seems to envelope everything into perfect strolling weather. 

“Can we go this way?” She asks as she nods towards an adjacent sidewalk. I nod and follow. 

The sidewalk winds behind a number of houses until it opens up once more and I find us at the top of a bluff. Large, more expensive homes rest behind us, nearly slanted on the precipice of the bluff. But, to the west is a breathtaking view. 

The hilly slope is filled with green brush, and a bit further out, a few roads lay, but don’t seem to be used much. And beyond that, the ocean. Dark blue, as the sun dips toward the horizon. The sky is smudged with orange, red, and yellow. 

I lean against the rail and watch with quiet reverence. I think I’d like to live close to the ocean like this one day. Such a strange thought. It seems like since the war ended, thinking of a future, any future, has been intimidating and daunting, and pointless. Can I ever live up to my reputation? Can I ever do anything of significance again? Or be known for anything else? Will I always be the golden girl, not second, but third to  _ the  _ Harry Potter? 

But, here on this bluff, watching the sunset, I can almost see something. A glimpse of magic I haven’t seen in more than two years. Real magic. The kind that seems to come from the most natural source: everything. No wands, no blood purity nor mudbloods. Just organic, natural magic. 

I’m startled when I feel Narcissa’s hand encase my own. It’s only a fleeting, gentle squeeze before it releases me. I take a breath and realize I have tears on my cheeks. I wipe them away quickly and stuff my hands in my pockets. 

“Ready to go?” I ask without looking at her. 

“Yes,” she says quietly. 

She follows me back to base camp.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story so far :) 
> 
> Thank you again to my lovely beta <3

_ I’m startled when I feel Narcissa’s hand encase my own. It’s only a fleeting, gentle squeeze before it releases me. I take a breath and realize I have tears on my cheeks. I wipe them away quickly and stuff my hands in my pockets.  _

_ “Ready to go?” I ask without looking at her.  _

_ “Yes,” she says quietly.  _

_ She follows me back to base camp. _

We arrive at base camp, but even with the relaxing walk and the salt in the air, my mood hasn’t lifted.

“Would you like something to eat?” 

She gives me pause, but I can’t seem to muster enough energy to meet her blue eyes. “No,” I mumble as I move up the stairs. I close the master bedroom door harder than I intend. She’ll probably take it personally. Who cares. 

I flop down onto the large bed and pull out my wand from my sleeve. Writing into the air with it, I add my observation and notes from our interviews to my log book—it’s just a composition book where I keep my notes, nothing special.

A few minutes later, I’ve jotted down everything I can think of and set my wand on the nightstand. I’m not exactly sure why or how, or who, furnished this house, but it feels too lived-in to be new. Maybe the previous renters were a family. With four bedrooms, it'd have to be, right? The neighborhood is nice, filled with families. 

I close my eyes in the dim light and try to imagine myself in this house as its resident. Would there be kids for me? I’m not so sure. But, I know ‘Shanks would like this place. And I’ve always wanted a dog, ever since my parents denied me one when I was six. There’d be enough room here for me, and two animals. 

But, this bed is too large for one person. Maybe someone else could fit in beside me. There was that cute witch from Ginny’s quidditch team, though she’d been a bit too much of a jock. I like to walk, but that’s about as far as I go in the athletic department. Unless charades counts. I suppose I do like to swim, though it’s been ages. That was something I’d missed when I went to Hogwarts. Sure, there was the lake, but I’d be happy never to get near that body of water ever again. A pool sounds nice. Or even that big blue ocean a few blocks away. 

My mind drifts for a long time before it begins to circle back. 

_ Narcissa _ . She’s an odd one, all right. 

She’s exactly who I expected her to be, while also being nothing like I ever thought. I’m not sure how she can be both, but she is. It doesn’t help that I find her… aesthetically pleasing, to some, minor degree. 

I’ll bet that’s how she’s blinded others over the years, with her looks. Probably since the dawn of humankind.  _ Heh.  _

She’s not even that old. I’m not sure why making digs at her helps me, but it does. She’s only fifteen years older than me, hardly as long in the tooth as I make her out to be in my barbs. And god, her son, her only offspring, is Draco Malfoy. As if there needed to be more reasons to dislike her. I remember the feeling of bone under my fist when I punched him in fourth year… I can’t help but grin. 

_ How would she fit beside me on this bed? _

Yanking my eyes open, I shake my head and remove myself from the comforter. 

I have a simple schedule to follow, and there’s no use thinking about anything else. Shower, have a bite to eat (she should be out of the kitchen by then), make a few more notes, and then go to sleep.  _ Simple, Granger.  _

*****

A blood-curdling shriek throws me into consciousness, and I’m almost positive a basilisk is chomping through Narcissa at this very moment. Wand in hand, I fling open my door, ready to fling open her’s across the hall. She beats me to it as she comes dashing out of her room and into the hall in front of me. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Are you okay?” 

We ask at the same time before we catch a glimpse of each other. She’s not bleeding, so that’s... good.

“What happened?” She asks as she puts a hand to her heart, obviously as adrenaline filled as I am. 

I can’t stop myself from following her hand down to her chest. Her silky blue pajamas leave everything to one’s imagination, very modest. Yet, the small black buttons that run down her dressing blouse look easy enough to pop if I wanted to rip open her—

“Miss Granger?” She asks with some concern. 

I shake my head, but before I can think of something to say,  _ anything _ , another scream fills the air. We turn toward the front door, which we can both see from the upstairs hall. 

“Stay here,” I tell her. 

“Like Merlin!” She scoffs and straightens her back. I roll my eyes as we rush down the stairs and hurry out the front door.

Going outside without shoes proves to be a bit of a shock against the cold concrete of the driveway. I notice she’s barefooted as well, but she doesn’t seem to mind the chilly slab under our feet. 

“Over there.” She swoops around me, slipping her wand into her sleeve. I run to catch up. 

A young woman is on her knees in the street, covering her ears with both hands and rocking. Only until I reach them on the dark street do I realize there’s a young man sprawled out on the ground beside her. 

I move toward the man while Narcissa handles the woman. His olive green t-shirt is stained with blood, but I can see his chest moving—labored, but moving. I give Narcissa a look as she takes the woman into her arms. She nods and turns the woman around. 

Peeling back the olive shirt, I can’t help but remember the smell and feel of blood. Not something I’ve ever wanted to be around again, but law enforcement would require it, of course. There’s a deep gash in his stomach and I grimace as I put a little pressure on it. 

His eyes burst open, wild and panicked. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay! You’re going to be okay.” I try to reassure him, but I have no clue what I’m doing. 

“Hold her back a moment,” Narcissa tells me, but waits for my approval. “I’m a medi-wi—medical professional.” 

I nod once, thankful I don’t have to do anything more with him. I take hold of the woman’s arms to hold her back as she cries and speaks incoherently. I don’t want to look, and I don’t want her to see what Narcissa may be doing.

“Sir, what happened?” 

He breathes hard again, still terrified. 

“Please, I need to know,” she says as she puts the shirt back down and administers pressure to the gash to block the bleeding.

“I—I’m not sure. It was… a creature...” 

You’d think she and I have been partners for years by the way we look at one another and seem to understand what the other is thinking. 

“Please describe it,” I tell him as his companion begins to return to herself. 

“It… it was…” 

“It sounds crazy,” the woman says as she kneels on the other side of the man, across from Narcissa. She takes his hand and holds onto him tightly. His grateful smile toward her seems to energize him, bringing back a bit of a glow that he’d been missing only a moment ago. 

“You can’t shock me,” I tell her honestly. 

The woman seems to sense it. “It looked like a… fairy.” 

Narcissa’s wheels are turning, I can see by the way she tilts her head and squints a little into the distance. I wait. She turns back to me with a nod. “We need to get him inside. I have a po—medicine that will help. We need something to tourniquet the wound so we can move him. The gash isn’t big, but it’s deeper than I’d like.” 

“Me, too,” the man says. 

She turns to him surprised. 

I glance around me and realize I can offer the best item. I grab the end of my extra long t-shirt and rip the bottom of it in a long strip. Luckily I’m wearing shorts. I hand it to Narcissa and she quickly wraps it around his torso. 

“This will hurt for a moment.” She immediately tightens the shirt and causes him to yelp. I hiss at the pain I can imagine he’s feeling. Once he’s snug, I step in and help him up from the street. 

Narcissa hurries ahead, leaving the front door open as she goes to her lab. 

Me and his companion help him into the kitchen and lean him against a tall chair. I quickly grab two glasses and fill them with water. Both drink very little, but they seem to be eternally grateful. It’s just water. 

Narcissa pushes through the basement door and startles us. She apologizes quickly as she takes his full cup and pours it out in the sink. Blocking their view, I see her filling the glass with a vial she’s brought up stairs with her. She adds water to the glass then brings it over to him.

“You must drink all of this, but take it slow.” 

He nods as he sips at the pink-colored water. I suppose I trust her now? It’s too late if I don’t. I know she hates muggles, but she seems to be genuinely concerned for the man. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask with a glance in her direction. She gestures toward the living room. “Excuse us.” 

We pull up in front of each other by the large TV. I doubt it was put here by the ministry, so it appears we’re Goldilocks, living in someone else’s house. It doesn’t matter at the moment. There’s something far more pressing. 

“You know what it was?” I prompt. 

“It’s only a guess,” she responds, some of her haughty air is back. “A doxy.”

“A doxy?! I know they’re little buggers, but that gash—”

“It has teeth marks around the edges.” 

“You’re saying a doxy showed up in the middle of muggletown, and not only attacked him, but  _ bit  _ him?” _ That’s insane. _

She purses her lips and swallows down whatever I know she’s trying not to say. “Well?” I shouldn’t prod her, but I can’t seem to help it. 

“Whether or not you find it ludicrous is of no consequence. If you don’t believe me, go in and examine his wound yourself.” 

Maybe I pushed a little too hard. It’s the middle of the night and we were both awoken in a not so pleasant way. Plus, I’ve continued to be kind of… a bit of a prat to her. 

“I believe you,” I say quietly. If a pin dropped, I would hear it. I let out a breath of air and take a couple steps away from her. I need to think, and I can’t do that with her standing so close to me, in her pajamas that do little to cover the fact that she’s cold.

She waits. I can feel her eyes on me and it’s suffocating. She seems to sense it, and turns away, though she stays in the room. 

If a doxy was here, wouldn’t that mean a wizard was using magic? There are protocols for that. If anyone used magic who was unauthorized to do so, the Aurors would arrive in moments. Unless, whoever released the doxy was authorized. In that case, maybe it was an accident. But, why weren't they out looking for it? And wouldn’t the Ministry alert us if there was another wizard in the area, lest it interfere with this case? 

If a wizard didn’t release it one way or another, then how would it have gotten here?

It’s only a flash of an idea, a brief moment as I consider something more insidious. Could Narcissa herself have released the creature to do harm to the muggles? 

“Don’t be an idiot!” Narcissa snaps as she yanks herself across the room towards me. 

I’m surprised at how angry she looks, her eyes nearly flaming and her mouth twisted as she moves toward me. She pokes me hard in the shoulder with long, slender fingers. 

I back away, and she follows. She speaks through her teeth as my back presses against the wall. “I may not be the golden girl, but I would  _ never _ actively hurt  _ anyone _ . Ever!” 

_ Except me.  _

Her anger seems to subside and a sadness replaces it. She drops her hand and closes her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

I’m not sure what she’s apologizing for, but as she opens her eyes I can see the depth in the cerulean pools. She’s being honest with me. I can see that for sure. But beyond that, there’s a sort of solitude, there in her eyes. A loneliness. 

I whisper my response, “you’re not responsible for others’ actions.” 

“I suppose not,” she replies, “but, I am responsible for doing absolutely nothing when I should have.” 

Now I know we’re no longer talking about the couple in our kitchen. We’re talking about us, our history. I’m not sure how to respond. I want to forgive her. I want to tell her it’s okay, but I don’t believe that. My scar is a daily reminder of the torture her sister committed against me, in Narcissa’s home, in front of her, while she watched. 

“If I could change something, anything,” she continued, her hand just barely brushing mine, “it would be that night.” 

“Sure, then we would’ve lost the war.” I try to pose it as a bit of levity, and I can see that she gets it, but she also ignores it. 

“I understand why you’re angry, Miss Granger. You have every right to be, especially with me. I do hope that we can continue to work together, however. The things that are happening here in the area are obviously getting worse. I think they need us. Can we—do you think we can continue working this case together?” 

Her body heat is seeping into me, even though we are not touching. She smells like gardenias with the faintest hint of citrus. I can almost hear the sound of her silk clothing as she breathes, waiting for me. 

I can’t speak. My throat is dry and thick, and I’m far too focused on her lips as she stands in front of me. I give her a definitive nod, hoping it will suffice. She nods, though she seems a little dispirited. 

The more space she puts between us, the easier it is for me to think. I get my bearings as she waits by the other side of the couch. I think she’s waiting for me so we can go back into the kitchen and she can check on her patient. 

I stride closer, pausing beside her, not quite turning to her. “For what it’s worth, thank you.” I push forward before I can hear a response and she follows in a few moments later. 

  
  


*****

“What was it?” the man asks me as Narcissa examines his wound. 

She interrupts before I can think up a reasonable answer. “Does it hurt?” 

He shakes his head. “Not much. I feel… pretty good.” 

“Excellent. It looks to be healing right.” 

“Do you think we should go to the hospital?” the woman asks. 

“I’ve been a mediwitch for many years. He will be fine.” 

“A—a what?” he asks.

I step in immediately. “It’s English slang. That’s what we call… combat physicians.” 

“Yes,” Narcissa agrees. I know she’s not completely sure what that entails. 

“I’m a military brat. Where were you stationed?” he brightens.

I know she’s especially confused now, so I continue to speak for her. “She, uh, she worked for the U.N., the bomb diffusion project.” 

“Wow,” both of them respond. 

Narcissa nods solemnly, but I see the way she’s watching me from the corner of her eye, looking for any hint that she’s doing something wrong. To my surprise, they seem to accept my explanation and move on. 

“I’m Eric, by the way. This is my girlfriend Ava.” He holds his hand out to me. Thank god. I’m sure Narcissa wouldn’t have a clue what to do. Beside me, she either scoffs or coughs. It’s not clear.

I shake hands with Ava as well, while Narcissa copies the action with both of them. She turns to me and I’m not sure why she does it, but she holds her hand out to me, too, though she seems to have one of those sinister smirks again. Eric and Ava frown slightly and I laugh as I slide my arm around her and pull her close. 

“Always the joker, this one.” 

Eric and Ava find it charming, though I can’t say why. Unsure what to do with her hand, she decides to rest it on my stomach. With only my t-shirt on, the warmth from her hand bleeds into me. If I don’t extricate myself from her I’m afraid I may pull her tighter. The drumming in my chest grows harder as every second ticks by. 

“So, what do you think that was?” Eric asks softly. 

Narcissa untangles herself from me and leans against the kitchen counter. “Was it purple?” 

“Yes!” Ava almost shouts. I think she’s relieved we don’t think she’s crazy. 

“I believe it may be a… creature, from where we’re from.” 

_ That’s vague.  _

Narcissa’s eyes are on me instantly. “Dearest? You’ve always been better with insects.” 

I narrow my eyes at her, but force myself to play it off like gentle teasing. Is that what it is? Is she teasing me? 

“Yes, I believe you’re right, babe.” I can’t help myself. She deserves it! Calling me an insect aficionado isn’t an insult, but it feels like one. Her annoyed, slightly pursed lips make me smirk a little. 

“There’s an insect called the  _ porphura libellula. _ They’re quite common in the backwoods.” Narcissa looks downright impressed by my quick thinking. 

“They can be vicious when provoked,” I add, to gain a little more of her awe. 

“Much like you, my dear,” Narcissa smiles, and then winks. She actually winks at me.

My heart flutters in my chest and I know my neck has reddened slightly. I look away quickly, trying to tame my body’s betrayal.  _ Get a grip, Granger _ . 

After we speak with them for a little while longer, Eric declares he feels strong enough to walk home. We exchange contact information, under the guise of doing dinner together. They want to have us over to thank us for our help and hospitality.

They walk down our driveway, and it feels odd to be standing in the doorway with Narcissa, in our pajamas, waving at them. It’s nearly five in the morning now, enough time to try to sleep for another two hours. I excuse myself as soon as we close the front door. 

Sliding into the large bed, I snuggle into the warmth. Sleep will be wonderful. 

As soon as my eyes close, I see only one thing: her. 

I know sleep will elude me. 


	5. Chapter 5

I’m in the office upstairs at the end of the hall. I’ve taken over the large, empty wooden desk, and I’ve spread out my case files along the wall with no frame pictures. The opposite wall has paintings of a beach, only somewhat decent renditions. This house most definitely belongs to someone else. It wasn’t mentioned in the report though. Some poor family must have been sent on holiday, and the neighborhood obliviated. 

Each report is in its own cluster on the wall, with most relevant information at the top, in my handwriting. I’ve also included some of the pictures I found while I was investigating the situation from my flat in London. We’ll need to stop by the bakery today to interview the employees and any patrons who were present during the incident. Then, another interview with a resident near the top of the bluff. 

I’m looking over the facts of the incidents and cross referencing the information with the books I’ve brought from home. Thank goodness for my bag. Not only did it let me and the boys travel more comfortably, and a lot further, but it lets me bring all my books with me—my sacred texts. If I could’ve brought Crookshanks, I would’ve brought him, too. 

Wand in hand, I pull out a passage from one of the books I’m referencing, and place it on a piece of blank parchment I’ve adhered to the wall with magic as well. Charms, hexes, spells, and similar cases which have been previously recorded all go up on the wall beside their respective cases. I’ve brought my potions books of course, but I’m not  _ one of the world’s leading potion makers _ , who I’m fairly certain would have a cow if she found any mention of potion authority coming from me,  _ the golden girl _ . I roll my eyes at the wall as I flip open another book pertaining to levitation and it’s recorded history involving muggles. 

Four loud, heavy thumps batter the front door. Even with my office door closed I can hear it reverberate through our hou—home base. Two more follow before another brief pause. I open my door and head down the hall. I wonder where Miss Black is now. Tinkering in her lab, I’m sure. Who knows what sort of diabolical potions she could create and how much she could sell them for. 

The beating of our door continues and I hop down the stairs quickly. Narcissa tosses open the kitchen door, obviously annoyed by the way she storms in, and we reach the front door together. I open it with a hard yank, about to curse whoever could be so rude and annoying and disruptive. 

Instead, my words clog in my throat. A whisper doesn’t make it out of my mouth. He’s furious. That much is obvious. His face is as red as his hair once was. It only continues to grow darker over time, like his father’s. 

“Where the hell have you been?!” He nearly screams at me. 

I only have a moment to notice the anger flooding Narcissa’s face as she wrenches the door open the rest of the way. Then, they’re both staring at each other in such an intense moment that I put my hand to the wall to try to stabilize myself. 

Suddenly, Ron attacks. He whips out his wand and presses forward until he’s pinned her against the wall with his forearm pressed across her throat. 

“Ron!” I shout, coming around him. “Let her go this instant!” 

“She deserves to rot in Azkaban!” He bellows.

“Stop it!” I yell back. I know he’s angry with  _ me _ , not her. He knows what it was that  _ Bellatrix _ did, but he also knows what I said out of anger about Narcissa, soon after the war. I was explicit, hurt at the time. She was an enemy because she let it happen, as if she had a choice in the matter. 

I know, and I knew then, that she had about as much choice as I did. It was a situation we were both forced into. —How lucky for her to not feel her sister’s wrath, but perhaps she has, for longer than the forty minutes of hell I experienced. 

“Release her!” I command once more and pat my sleeves for my wand, but there’s nothing there. 

His mouth gapes at my action, and I can’t blame him for his shock. But I can blame him for his behavior. 

“She deserves to die!” He says again, this time through his teeth, sneering at her. It’s a look that reminds me of Draco when we were students. As awful as Draco had been, a bully with ill-intent, he had never pretended to be anything else. I knew I could deal with him. But, Ron? Someone who shared my bed, and flat, let alone numerous life and death situations? This is entirely different. He’s not someone who’s  _ supposed to  _ hurt me. And this hurts me, I suppose.

Then, while he’s glaring at her, I feel her hand on mine. It’s something that Ron doesn’t seem to notice. She slips a wand into my palm and closes my grip around it before setting her hands back against her sides and continuing to allow Ron to apply some pressure to her neck. 

I glance down at my hand. Her wand won’t work for me, but somehow, I feel like she’s giving it to me for another reason. She doesn’t say it, but I feel like she’s telling me, in her own way, that she won’t fight back. Despite what Ron is threatening, she won’t fight back. Does she think she deserves to be treated this way? That pisses me off.

I find my voice and hold up her wand as if it’s my own. “Release. Her. Now.” 

He presses his arm against her throat harder, and without thinking, I cast a spell. His arm slips from her throat and he backs away, none the wiser to the magic I used on him to make him slip. I look at the wand with a frown but come back to myself quickly.

I slide into the space in front of her, my back to her, and the wand still drawn in front of me. 

“What the hell, Hermione!” He grabs an ugly green vase from a side table and chucks it against the far wall. 

A gentle touch presses to my shoulder and I turn slightly to look at Narcissa behind me. She looks both angry and concerned for me. For me? 

I don’t want her to leave me here with him alone. I plead with my eyes, or at least I hope I do, and place my hand on top of hers. She nods. 

“I’ll be right here,” she whispers, and I turn back with her wand clutched in my fist. 

I’m not sure why I want her here, to be honest. She’s liable to hear some very personal things about my relationship with Ron. But, part of me wonders: why am I concerned about what she thinks, and not the fact that I completely forgot to tell Ron I was leaving for a case? 

Now’s not the time to think about it. Ron is angry, and rightfully so, even if he’s being a real wanker. I approach him cautiously, not getting too close, and lower the wand. Though, it remains in my white-knuckled fist. He’s by the window in the living room, looking out into the neighborhood, though I doubt he’s actually seeing much of anything.

“Ron…” 

He turns to me ferociously, obviously trying to control his rage. “I’ve been looking for you all day!” 

_ Well, isn’t that calling the kettle black? _ “I’ve been gone for three.” 

He nearly snarls at me, but what right does  _ he  _ have to feel so high and mighty? 

“I assume that means you only arrived home today. The last time I saw you was a week ago. Where were you?” I bite back.

He slams his hand against the wall. “Why should I go home when all you ever do is read, work, and ignore me?! You never do anything! You don’t clean, or cook! You don’t go out with me! I told you not to take the job at the Ministry and you just did whatever the hell you wanted, like always!” 

“That’s rich coming from you!” 

“Me? You were the one who—” he takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. Suddenly, the old Ron I knew, the one who avoided conflict at all costs, had reappeared. His demeanor changes as all of his anger leaves his body and he sags his shoulders. 

He asks softly, “when will you be done here?” 

“I’m not sure,” I match his lowered volume. 

“And what about  _ her _ ?” He nods toward Narcissa behind me by the front door, but he doesn’t seem to actually look at her. 

“I—” I’m not sure why I lie, but it comes out before I can think twice about it. “I asked her to be my partner.” 

“What?” he squints. 

“—on the case,” I clarify.  _ Obviously you mean the case, Granger, what else would you mean?  _

He frowns at me for a moment, then shakes his head. “Why the hell would you ask her?” 

“Her expertise is needed for this assignment. And I don’t have to explain myself to you. This is my job, and one I take seriously. You shouldn’t be here.” 

He scoffs. “I shouldn’t be here? You left, Hermione, without as much as a note!” 

“What did you think?! That I left you? I would never leave Crookshanks behind.” I know it’s absolutely the worst thing to say, but I also know it’s true, and I think he knows that, too. 

“I thought something might’ve happened… I know you’ve been depressed lately…” 

I slowly realize what he’s implying and it makes me detest him. “You think I’d try to off myself?!” 

“Blimey, I don’t know, ‘Mione! I don’t know you any more! Harry said you haven’t talked to him in ages, and Ginny—” 

“They haven’t talked to me, either!” I shout. I know I’m starting to crack. I can feel the tectonic plates shifting, and all I want to do is run. That big blue ocean is calling my name and I want to get out of this suffocating house that has two people I’m not even sure I like much. But, it’s too late. 

“They never call me, Ron! They ask you out but never me! Why should I have to be the one to always reach out?! Harry ignores me at the Ministry and I see him almost every morning in the lift!” I hear my own voice like it’s far away, and far too shrill. 

Ron has nothing to say to me, he just stands there wide-eyed. But I’ve opened the box, and now I can’t close it. “I stopped trying with Harry, and Ginny, and—everyone, for a long time now! You’re just noticing? You’re never home! You go out with Harry and  _ your  _ friends to pubs after work almost every day! I invited you, nearly begged you, to go do things with me but you always said no!” 

“I don’t want to spend my free time in some bloody library or museum!”

I know there are tears running down my cheeks, but I’m so broken, I can barely think. I watch him. He says something but I can’t hear it. Then he’s moving around me and the front door slams but makes no sound. 

My heart pounds so hard that I’m afraid it will burst, and I will shatter right here, in the middle of some muggle town, clear across the pond, in some house that doesn’t belong to me. I think this is despair. I have only ever experienced it once before, but I’m sure this is what’s happening. I need to fix things. I need to go after Ron and apologize. We can make things work. We have for years now. 

I just need to collect myself, then I can go spend a few hours with him and apologize. I’ll make it up in one way or another. Things will go back to normal. It will be fine. 

I’m sure of it. This will be the best way to stay afloat. I will come back to myself later, when there’s time and I’m strong enough for it, but for now, I know that I need him. I think I’ve always needed him. Without him, I’m afraid I  _ will _ do something I’d regret… 

A soft, warm touch to my cheek begins to break my daze. Tender pads whisper against my skin and wipe away at the water. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the blurriness from my eyes, and find bright blue orbs in front of me. 

She tilts her head as she looks at me and I am once more wrapped in the scent of gardenias. Her fingers tentatively leave my cheeks, and she draws closer. I should move, but I can’t. I’m attached to my place, and I’m afraid if I move one muscle more, I’ll crumble into powder on the floor. 

Warm arms move around me and my nose disappears into her soft, silky hair. It takes another moment before I fix my arms around her, and then the dam breaks. 

*****

I have no idea what time or day it is, or where I am. But, I feel pleasant. And comfortable. Though, I realize I’m not in my bed. I open my eyes some more and find I’m in a dim room with a quaint fire going in the hearth. My throat is parched and I can feel that my eyes are puffy. 

I wrap myself in the blanket that’s draped over me as I sit up. I’m surprised to find Narcissa sitting in a comfortable looking armchair off to my left, also with a blanket around her. She’s asleep, her head pressed into the crook of the navy blue chair. 

The coffee table in front of me has an assortment of items. I unscrew a red thermos and smell its contents. Jasmine tea. I pour a little into the lid and sip at the hot liquid. There’s a little note sitting beside it. 

_ Tea and pastries for when you wake. -N _

I glance over to the chair and see her still snoozing. Her platinum blonde hair is like a halo and I can’t help but recall how wonderful it was when I escaped into it. 

I open up the pink box on the table and my mouth waters at the assortment of pastries, biscuits, and doughy delights. I eat the first one ravenously. Taking it a bit more slow with the second, I sip my tea and sit back. As I munch on the delicious snacks, I find myself drawn to Narcissa. 

I cried hard for such a long time. I don’t remember all of it. I recall her sitting us on the couch after a while. Then later, I recall her encouraging me to put my head in her lap on a pillow, and I recall her gentle touches to my hair as she stayed quietly with me. 

I must have nodded off then. But it was only noon when Ron had come by. The clock on the wall tells me it’s eight fifteen. I suppose it’s been awhile since I’ve had a good night’s rest. Though, I’m not sure this long sleep in the middle of the day was the best choice. 

Wait! The bakery. Did she go do the interviews? Shit. I was supposed to do those! 

I’m about to pull myself up off the couch when she stirs in her chair. I wonder if I should pretend to be asleep, but that would be difficult with a pastry half-eaten in one hand and my little lid-full of jasmine tea. Instead, I watch her as she slowly lifts her head. 

Her eyes flutter open as she sits up, and I can’t help but find her mussed hair a bit charming. It’s been pushed up a little on one side. As the blanket slips from her, I notice that her blouse has shifted and she reveals a bit more skin than she normally seems to prefer. 

“Miss Granger?” 

Her voice is soft and quiet, a little gravelly as she wakes. I smile as I watch her gather her bearings. 

“Oh, what time is it?” 

I can’t seem to answer as I watch her. She finally turns to me and seems to realize what state she’s in. It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but I think her cheeks redden faintly. 

“Miss Granger,” she says more forcibly. The spell is broken. 

“Yes,” I reply quickly and divert my attention to my tea. “It’s nearly eight thirty.” 

She gasps and I quickly turn my attention back to her. “What’s wrong?” I’m ready to jump into action. 

“No, sorry, dear,” she responds with a breath, “I’m only surprised I slept so long. I normally only sleep two hours at a time. I returned from the bakery around three. I suppose I was more tired than I realized.” 

“Two hours at a time?” 

She glances at me. “I can handle it.” 

_ I’m sure you can _ . “That’s not very healthy.” I bark a laugh at my own statement and she stares at me wide-eyed. “Maybe I’m not the best person to give advice about being healthy.” 

She purses her lips and waves off the notion. “I would prefer that you refrain from speaking of yourself disparagingly.” 

That surprises me, for sure. I’m not sure what to say, so I grab onto whatever pops into my head. “Have you tried these?” I hold up my half eaten croissant. 

“No, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” 

“It’s delicious! You have to try it!” 

She raises her eyebrows at me, and I give her a tentative smile. “Please?” 

“I will try it, if you will answer a question that has been bothering me.” 

_ Oh god. Okay.  _ I thought we’d discussed and put our uncomfortable history behind us. Or maybe she wants to know more about my relationship with Ron… I’m not sure which one is worse at the moment.

She gives me the barest hint of a smile as she stands from the chair and moves across the room to a cabinet sitting behind the couch. I watch her as she opens it and fishes something out. 

“I was looking for something to read last night. I thought I had found a collection of muggle books.” She explains as she closes the cabinet once more. “What is this?” 

I smile widely as she holds up the item. 


End file.
